Before we go any further, let’s acknowledge something right
off the bat: No Permanent Vacation,
no Aerosmith discussion in 2012. Or in
2002. Or in 1992. Whatever its relative musical merits, this
album and its enormous popularity are the reason Aerosmith still fill large
venues. After the commercial one-two
non-punch of Rock in a Hard Place and
Done with Mirrors, it was clearly
this album or never for Aerosmith as far as the bean-counters, not to mention
contract holders, were concerned. You
may or may not love the album, but if you’re a fan you’ve gotta love what it
did for the band.
For me, it’s neither love nor hate. I’m burned out on the three hit singles (“Dude
[Looks Like a Lady]”, “Rag Doll”, “Angel”) due to sheer radio overkill through
the years, and also due to the fact that not a single one of ‘em is truly a first
rate Aero-tune for me. “Rag Doll” simply
isn’t lyrically clever enough; “Dude” is as slight-and-silly as it gets (great
use of horns, though), and “Angel” is Bon Jovi with class and style. Which, right, makes it better than actual Bon
Jovi, but it hardly makes it a match for the likes of “Home Tonight” in the
ballad sweepstakes.
Some of the deep tracks have a bit more to offer: “Simoriah” is a
particularly interesting little critter, a song that can’t quite seem to decide
if it wants to be quirky power-pop or slick corporate rock fare and ends up a
lovable, if beguiling, cross between the two.
Both “St. John” and “Hangman Jury” have a whole lot more to do with
authentic, heavy blues than the nature of the album’s hit singles would ever
lead you to believe. As for the slick,
slightly too clean hard rock that permeates most of the album, the opening
combo of “Heart’s Done Time” and “Magic Touch” threaten to give the form a good
name; honestly, it’s always surprised me that neither of them was ever tapped
as a potential fourth hit single.
Part of my problem with Permanent
Vacation has always been its downright bizarre last quarter, kicking off
with the mind-boggling Jimmy Buffett pastiche that serves as the album’s title
track. I’ve never even been able to decide if it’s any good or not; it’s just a
song so blatantly performed by the absolute wrong band that it makes the needle
in my head skip. What comes after that,
you ask? A Beatles cover, naturally:
while their spin on “I’m Down” is pleasant enough, it feels like little more than filler. It would make a nice single b-side, and that's exactly where it belongs. After that, we close the whole thing off with
an instrumental, “The Movie”, which sounds like something you’d never bother to
notice if it played over the closing credits of one. To say this album completely runs out of
steam at the end would be quite the understatement.
In the end, it’s okay but not much more than that. The production values sound horribly dated to
me; the cavernous reverb drenched over both the drums and the
vocals lead me to the second Bon Jovi comparison of this review and, frankly,
that’s just not what I want out of my Aerosmith. It’s all a shade too generic, a shade too
song-doctored, and several shades too clean
to be as bad for you as the best Aerosmith should be. I’m grateful that it managed to re-ignite the
band’s commercial standing. I’m even
more grateful that their next album managed to bring their commercial and
artistic instincts much more in sync with one another.
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